


A Little Down Time

by Penguinplushie



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Terrible at hiding, Tiny bit sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguinplushie/pseuds/Penguinplushie
Summary: Conversations in the dark.





	

Maxwell is good at hiding in the shadows. Which annoyed his siblings to no end, mostly because none of them had a single secret from him. He tucks himself into the darkness near the wall of the hut Dorian is staying at. He isn't spying, just merely curious about this man from Trevinter who joined their ranks so easily. Honestly he hadn't really gotten up the nerve to actually speak with him since the incident in Redclif. 

They'd just returned from their trip to the Storm Coast to hopefully find the Wardens. The mage had readily offered his services, much to just about everyone's surprise. The trip hadn't been a total waste. They did gather some information and Maxwell was able to gather a little on their new Mage. He had made sure to observe quietly, couldn't let the man suspect anything.

He isn't sure if Dorian has retired for the evening or not. If he hasn't Maxwell knows he is going to be in for a long wait. Iron Bull did like to celebrate just about anything, so long as the drink is flowing. Even now Maxwell isn't totally sure of what to make of the Qunari. He seems likable enough so Maxwell never really dwells on the feeling.

“A little nippy to be skulking about in the dark,” that rich thick voice speaks startling Maxwell. He remains quiet not sure how the mage even knows he's there. Has he lost his touch since the mark on appeared on his hand? “So the Inquisition supports free mages. What's next? Elves running Halamshiral? Cows milking farmers?”

Maxwell finds himself snickering a little, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Dorian remains silent, apparently waiting for an answer. Which of course means he does know Maxwell is there. “Well that last one sure would be interesting to see. Give me time. I'm sure I'll surprise you.” As if on queue his snarky sense of humor makes itself know.

“I suspect that's untrue... unless you strip yourself naked and allow the Chantry to flog you into repentance. Now that would surprise me.”

Maxwell's head fall forward, his already shadowed face hidden deeper in the darkness. His face is probably bright red right now after that last comment from the mage. The man sure wasn't afraid to say just about anything. 

“I do wonder,” the mage continues on like it is nothing, “if you've considered what this support of yours will do. For mages in general, I mean. The Inquisition is seen as an authority. You've given southern mages license to... well, be like mages back home.”

“If that means they're anything like you. I approve.” Maxwell quickly covers his mouth with his hand. Did he really just say that? What is wrong with his brain to mouth sensor today? He seems to lose all control when it comes to common sense around this man. Which is why he's kept his distance honestly, well until today.

“Ha! There aren't many mages back home like me,” Dorian answers. Maxwell grateful he didn't seem to be taking him seriously. “I never fit in. Bloodstains are so difficult to clean, you see.”

Nope, not taking him seriously at all. Maxwell feels a little of the tension ease out of his shoulders and finally pulls his hand away from his mouth. Well he can be snarky too. “So we're doomed to a future of Blood Magic?”

“Not at first, but you'd be a fool not to see where this could lead.”

Maxwell could see actually, and it did worry him some that he might have made the wrong choice. What if the Mages get out of control? What if they start summoning things? That just would not be good for him. Cassandra and the others would probably call for his head. Living a life of 'what ifs' is kind of pointless though. He made the choice and he is just going to have to live with the consequences no matter what they might end up being.

“Good night,” he says quietly before pushing away from the wall and slipping around the side and quickly on route to his own hut.


End file.
